


Famous

by DangerRollins



Category: hionn - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Boys In Love, Falling In Love, First Love, Heartbreak, Love, M/M, True Love, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 05:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11662419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerRollins/pseuds/DangerRollins
Summary: Harry is famous. What a wonderful thing.





	Famous

Harry let out a small and shaky breath as he looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was fluffier than usual, all over the place and in desperate need of a good washing. His eyes were dull and dead and nothing like they used to be as dark bags formed under them. His lips were pressed together tightly, a large frown etched on his face. His face was skinny. Ugly, or so he thought. He hated everything that he saw staring back at him. This person wasn't him. This person represented two things; Everything that he hated and everything that everyone else wanted out of him.

The fans were amazing. They were the reason he kept going. The reason he performed in such shit conditions, the reason he sat through hours of interviews being questioned about the same damn things over and over again. The reason he spent hours in the studio, some days having it pay off and some days having it be pointless because nothing even came out of it. The reason he could deal with being away from his family for such long periods of time. The reason he kept his mouth shut when the tabloids were making up another rumor that made him look like a womanizing brat and when the paparazzi thought it'd be okay to stalk him and take pictures of him even when he was feeling so low.

Performing was so fun most times. He could connect with his fans and spend two hours on stage where he belonged. He could sing his heart out which is what he loved to do. He could sing his own songs, the one he created from nothing but experience and creativity. He could even sing his favorite songs from other artists! He could forget his problems for just a few hours and he could focus on one of the single most important things in the world to him: Music.

The gifts, HA! They were great. People sending him things just because they wanted his attention, they wanted him to notice them. People sending him things with hopes that he'd promote the product. People sending him things in hopes of getting famous. It was annoying and amusing all in one.

The money was great as well. He'd tried in the past to pretend that it didn't matter to him, that he could do without it, but that was simply a lie. Being a millionaire at the age of 23 isn't on his complaint list and never will be. Being able to buy whatever he wants whenever he wants isn't a terrible feeling. Being able to throw cash into one charity after another definitely isn't a bad feeling. Impressing people with his expensive Gucci outfits and his many fancy cars and his one of a kind furniture- It was simply spectacular.

Being a role model for so many people, well that'd always been a dream of his. Having your words mean so much to so many people...That's amazing. A blessing and a curse, really. Your every word means something. Words are so easy to twist...Words can be interpreted in so many different ways. It's so easy to overthink every little thing that you say when you've got that kind of power under your belt, but what's worse is that it will always be so much easier to underthink.

The attention could be hell at times but it was also comforting. The followers on all the social media, the articles being written about him every second, which he read when he was feeling bored. Having fans was incredible. Being loved by strangers was incredible. Making new friends was such fun. Everybody wants to be known. They want their name known, they want their art to be shown to the world, they want people to see them. Even Harry himself had wanted that! The only problem with this, though, is that they don't really see him. They see a version of himself that even he doesn't like to see. The one he's forced to see when he looks in the mirror nowadays.

Famous.

Fuck he hated that word. He hated it so much for so many different reasons and he wished he could just destroy it. Make it so that it had never even existed. Famous. One simple fucking word could just ruin everything. Everything. 

It was the reason he'd changed himself so much. Started walking differently, talking differently, acting differently until he really was different. He was a puppet with too many strings attached and so many people were being the puppet master at the exact same time. They were yanking on his strings until it hurt so badly that he just had to do what they told him to. He was a robot. That's what they thought at least. 

They treated him like he had no feelings like he had no heart or no brain. No wants and no needs. No use other than being exactly what they wanted him to be. Nothing more and nothing less than a machine for them to turn on and play around with when they needed to.

The reason they expected him to be happy and put together at all times. To be emotionless other than when the emotion was happy. Smile, Harry. Don't cry, Harry. Don't you fucking dare insinuate that a human, like yourself, could ever be unhappy about anything. Don't.

The reason why he walked the red carpet and he smiled so largely, cameras being shoved in his face and interviewers prying just a little too fucking hard. The reason he dealt with that shit while simultaneously crying on the inside. While screaming internally. While he was so heartbroken.While he just wanted to go. 

It was the reason why he was sitting here, in front of a mirror at 3am, silently crying and wondering why he'd let himself get so caught up in this fucking game. Why he let it change him so much. Everybody thought he'd stayed so humble and so polite and blah blah blah and maybe he had but he'd gotten at least a little big-headed because he'd ruined the one amazing thing he'd had going for him.

Fionn.

***

"What do you mean you're breaking up with me?" He'd asked. His voice was trembling and he looked so small. So heartbroken. So betrayed. They'd been together for so long, had known each other for even longer. They had a plan. They were supposed to go to college together. They were supposed to travel together. They were supposed to settle down and get married. They were supposed to get old together. If they watched the notebook as many times as they could, ha, maybe they'd die together as well. Now the plan they'd discussed so many times...The dream they'd both had for so long...It was just gone. Like that. What had changed? Why had it changed so quickly?

"I still love you, Fionn." Harry sobbed out. He felt like he'd been stabbed in the gut by two thousand knives all at the same time, all twisting and turning. "It...It's not you I swear and I know that's so bad. I know it's not a good thing to hear. But really, it's not you it's me!" He was breathing quickly, a panic attack coming on quickly as he tried to do what he really didn't want to. He didn't want to break up with the love of his life, he didn't want to leave. Didn't wanna ruin their plan. He had to, though, and he was going to do what he had to do no matter how badly it hurt.

"That's not true." Fionn cried. "It's not me and it's not you. It's them. The photographers, the fans, the media. The record label. The-" Fionn cut himself off with a sob. There was so much to take in, so much to realize. Everything about this was just absolutely terrible. The fact that he was losing the love of his life, and his plan for the future which meant so much to him because he loved to plan and be prepared was only just a small fraction of why this was so painful. There was also the fact that Harry was sitting in front of him already looking so different. He looked tired and broken and helpless and in pain and different. So different. The light had left his beautiful eyes. He looked so unhappy even when he pretended to be so ecstatic about everything. He was sobbing on the floor of Fionn's apartment, looking more upset than Fionn himself even though he'd been the one to break it off. 

"Harry, listen to me right now." Fionn sniffled, crawling to Harry and hugging him tightly. "You're not doing this because you want to. It's because you feel you have to. You want this more than anything, even me. Always have. You want to be known. To be loved. To be heard. To be famous. That's okay. Okay? It's alright. Almost everyone does. But listen-" Fionn grabbed at the older boy's cheeks and forced him to look into his eyes. "I don't want any of that for myself. The one and only thing in this entire world that I want is you. YOU. I want you. I need you and I love you. And that means that I'm going to be here for you when you need me. When you need to come back for a bit. I'll be here. Waiting."

Harry buried his face into Fionn's shoulder and the two sat on the floor sobbing loudly in each other's arms for hours and hours before they pulled away. Before Harry walked away.

***

Harry let out a broken sob and stood up abruptly, wiping at his eyes angrily and throwing the first thing he could get his hands on, his cellphone, into the mirror. It crumbled to a bunch of broken pieces, something he could relate to. 

Without even thinking, he was soon walking as quickly as his long legs could carry him. The rain outside was heavy and it hurt on his delicate skin. He was only wearing his slippers and they were already soaked through. His thin T-shirt and boxer shorts didn't protect him from the weather much either, but he didn't care.

Four blocks he walked. 

He arrived at the doorstep tired as hell. He could see his breath as he huffed and puffed. He was convinced he hadn't breathed the entire time he was walking. He knew it was rude and startling to bang on someone's door so hard for so long so late at night, but he needed to see him. Needed to be with him.

"What the fucking hell-" 

And that was Fionn. His voice. So beautiful. His hair tousled, his skin pale and clear, his eyes sparkling and it could be seen even through his adorable glasses. His lips. Beautiful. So beautiful. So soft looking. So pink. 

"Harry fucking Styles." He whispered to himself. "It's been three years. Three years." 

"Yeah...I just...Yeah." Harry almost had to shout over the sounds of the rain. "I came back to you. I ugh...I had to come back to you."

"You can't be here." Fionn shook his head before scanning his surroundings. It was raining so hard and Harry was gonna get sick if he didn't get warm soon. "God damn it Harry. Fuck!"

"I'm sorry." Harry sounded pathetic as he said it, his voice filled with regret and disappointment and self hatred.

"Me too." Fionn sighed.

"Is everything alright baby?"

The voice didn't come from Harry. The voice didn't come from Fionn. It was the voice of a male. And soon the source of the voice came peeking around the corner. Skin glistening and hair tousled and breathing a bit heavily. And that's when Harry realized that Fionn's cheeks were pink and his lips were swollen and he was shirtless and he only had his underwear on. And he'd been breathing heavily too.

Harry didn't think of himself as a smart guy but anyone with 1/4 of a brain could understand what had been happening moments before he'd arrived. 

"Please come in!" The guy offered, pushing Fionn out of the way softly and then dragging Harry in by the arm. "Mate, you're gonna get a massive cold! What are ya thinkin' bein out in weather like tha' out there?!" He questioned. Harry didn't look away from Fionn, who looked ashamed. Harry shook his head to himself. Fionn deserved this. Happiness. With this guy. "It's okay." Harry choked out. Fionn nodded a little before looking away. The guy assumed that Harry had been speaking to him and he kept talking, going on and on about getting Harry dry before he caught pneumonia, but harry wasn't listening. 

Famous.

What a wonderful thing to be.

**Author's Note:**

> For whatever reason, I was thinking of Marilyn Monroe earlier. And so I wrote Harry just as I would've written her.


End file.
